


Tomarry & Harrymort ABC's

by SupaNova_CasaNova



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus Harry Potter, Boggart Tom Riddle, Boggart Voldemort, Celebrity Harry Potter, Dragon Tom Riddle, Dragon Voldemort, Elf Tom Riddle, Fairy Harry Potter, Gen, He'd do something like that, However you want to see it, I'll add more tags as I write the chapters., In a way he did, Kid Harry Potter, M/M, Millionaire Tom Riddle, Possessive Tom Riddle, Protective Tom Riddle, Protective Voldemort, Rich Tom Riddle, Tall-Dark-and-Handsome needs to become an AO3 synonym of Tom Riddle, Tom Can't Do Emotions, Tom probably killed Bambi's mum, Unethical and Unwarranted Aggression Against Cereal, if Harry was Bambi, reality television
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-07-05 20:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15871566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupaNova_CasaNova/pseuds/SupaNova_CasaNova
Summary: Each chapter is inspired by a word/s beginning with a certain letter. Chapters are in order of A to Z. Most chapters will be unrelated oneshots but it will be in the notes if the chapter is linked with another.





	1. A is for Animagus and Adorable

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just an exercise and bit of fun for me to get into a creative mindset. Feel free to comment any ideas for certain letters! Also, if you want, comment if you would like to see an extended version or another chapter added to one of the oneshots you see here.

'Best idea I've ever had!' thought one Harry Potter as he trotted through the woods of some nature reserve. 

 

The Dursleys had decided that they wanted to brag about how down to Earth they were by going on an extended camping trip. Harry had hoped that he could stay home and be at leisure for two whole weeks in a house on his own. But it seemed that fate wouldn't be so kind. The Dursleys had decided that whilst they went canoeing, hiking and whatever else they had planned, that they needed someone to start a fire and cook food over it for when they get back- food that  _he_ would have to catch might he add.

On the first few days, his only consolation had been that everyone else was just as miserable in their own way. Petunia hated dirt and bugs and animals; the woods was hell, Dudley was winging about no service and no television and Uncle Vernon- along with Dudley- was too unfit to take simple hikes with ease and enjoyment. 

 

But today Harry had taken his chance to escape on his own little adventure. The Dursleys had left to go out on a full day tour of the reserve and Harry was left with many, many hours to kill before he had to cook dinner.

 

Looking out into the woods, he had thought of the reading he had been doing about Animagi all break. Perhaps it was time to test it out? He couldn't really ask for a more ideal situation to test out his animagus form...unless he turned out to be a polar bear or mosquito or something...Diving into the idea in a Harry Potter fashion, before he could think it through he kneeled on the ground and reached into his magic as he had read. He imagined an animal, no definite form but a wilder presence than himself. Feeling something emerge he grasped it and pulled it out of his core, out into the rest of his body.

 

The change was like a ripple, not pleasant but he wasn't in agony- he'd take that as a win. When the prickling and popping had finally died down, he did an experimental wiggle to see if everything was in place. Seemingly so, he stood on what he recognised as four hooves, joined to long coltish legs, covered in fawnish fur.

 

'I did it!' he screeched internally to his own mental applause. Unable to contain his excitement and curiosity, he sprang forth only to lose his footing and face plant.

 

'Okay, baby steps, baby steps, then.' he conceded, getting up more cautiously than before and progressively moving his limbs coordinatedly. Knowing the path to the river he was directed towards for fishing, he set a path towards that direction and eventually reached its end, with minimal falls. Hesitantly he approached the river bank with slightly overhung the waterside. Falling in there  _would_ be a bad idea. If he could barely walk, there was no way he could swim.

 

Peering as far as he dared over the edge, what he saw nearly lead to him collapsing anyway. 

 

He always knew he would be a stag, like his father, but he was a grown man for goodness sakes! He found a fawn staring back at him in the rippling water. No antlers, no proud puffed-up chest of fur, just a small, gangly, whited speckled deer with an ironically caught in the headlights expression. Surely thirteen- nearly fourteen -constituted to an adult in deer years? Wasn't his father a full-fledged stag at his age?! He didn't want to remain 'Prongslet' forever! At these thoughts, his reflection's ears flopped down and his still-green-eyes seemed to double in size, only serving to make him look more adorable and less dignified.

 

He stumbled back on what he now recognised as baby-deer legs. He then ran from the horrifying truth as fast as his uncoordinated body would allow.

 

That had been about an hour ago. Since then, he had mostly come to terms with it. It did have some perks as well. Who would harm a little baby fawn? And...who could catch one!?

 

'Even in this body, I'm faster than any other damn seeker around.' Harry thought smugly as he sprang over a fallen tree with grace unexpected of a first-time deer. 

 

He felt as though he were flying on his Nimbus again; ducking, diving, swerving and soaring. Green rushed passed him in streaks with brown and the occasional blue. But what made him stop and trot back a few steps was the blur of black he shot passed. Prancing between trees curiously, still, on his high from speeding everywhere over the forest, Harry ignored the possibility that it was a result of his juvenile deer nature peering through.

 

Finding what caught his eye, he spied a crouched figure, swathed in a heavy black cloak. It looked to be a person picking some kind of herb from a weirdly shaped bush.

 

‘Magical herbs in a muggle nature reserve? Weird.’

 

Despite his light treads, the being still seemed to sense his presence. Head flicking up suddenly, the wind ruffled the now visible dark brown curls, sending the stranger's scent in his direction. It smelt velvety, tempting, like a flower trying to lure you into its clutches. It was dangerous. As the man turned towards him in fleeting curiosity, Harry saw his face was familiar, handsome, pale-skinned, dark-haired and all too Tom Marvolo Riddle for his liking but also just enough. 

 

'Shit' he hissed in his head, unaware that he was, once again, the picture of a deer caught in the headlights. With a tilt of the head, the cloaked man began to slowly approach Harry's shaking form in a crouched position. Literally approaching a scared animal. 

 

'Does he know I'm an animagus? He has that calculating look in his eye. Does he suspect me? Am I not acting like a normal deer? Heck! He shouldn't even be here! I killed the Diary-Riddle two years ago and Voldemort should still be a spirit!'

 

Stuck in these thoughts, he almost didn't notice Voldemort's continued approach. He watched, legs locked in fear, as the man crouched to rest in front of him, on his calves. They stared into each other's eyes, sizing each other up. Then a spark seemed to light up Voldemort's ruby red eyes- a dangerous, spark, threatening to start a forest fire. He slowly raised a pale, slender fingered hand towards him- allowing Harry to make the move to approach or not. As little as he wanted to touch the evil creature before him, he needed to act the part of a clueless and warily curious animal.

 

Leaning forward slightly, he made a show of taking a tentative sniff from the hand presented to him. Again, the velvety, tempting aroma swallowed his senses and mellowed his drew alarm bells into his mind.

 

'Did all creatures fell this way? Should I run to better act like a deer? It's already suspicious enough that I'm away from my 'herd'.'

 

Being this close seemed to dull his instinctual insight into Riddle's true nature. Instead of rearing back as he had planned, his foreleg stepped forward of its own accord and his head pressed into the offered palm. In return, the hand moved up to the space between his ears and petted gently. The feeling was blissful and made his already weak legs lose more of their tenuous ability to support his weight. It was embarrassing and he knew he would cringe and gag at this memory but at the moment it seemed less important.

 

Unknown to him, it could get better. Riddle then moved his other hand to beneath Harry’s chin and-

 

His thoughts at that moment seemed to blank out.

****

Thoroughly distracted, Harry didn't notice as the man before him began to examine his form, stretching out his ear for a better look, looking at his hooves and tail, all the while continuing his ministrations on his chin and jaw.

 

His legs finally gave in and he fell into Riddle’s lap. Blinking open eyes with dilated pupils, Harry nuzzled into the lap and rolled onto his back like some dog begging for affection. Which he essentially was at this point.

 

Seeing his reaction, the Dark Lord gave a chuckle and continued to scratch his chin, much to Harry’s delight.

 

What Harry didn't though was the sudden flare of the spark in understanding and sadism that in no way boded well for him.


	2. B is for Boggart, Bed and Boys.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to the Museum with the Dursleys and Dudley's friends only to have an encounter with what he isn't aware is a boggart, said boggart may travel home with him and ironically solve a few of Harry's fears in doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo…Realised that I haven't updated this in a while. I did have one or two chapters ready to update but them exams happened and then my laptop broke (it's still out of wack) so I don't have any of those chapters until I get my old laptop back in action. But I just wrote this one now on the spot to celebrate NO MORE EXAMS, until next year. But let's not think about that! Any who, this one shot was loosely inspired by 'Shadow Song' by SageMcMae which is also on AO3 (I know its a Reylo fic- bite me). Any who, enjoy!

It was so **dark**. 

Why was it so dark? Why couldn't Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon replace the light in his little cupboard? He normally wasn't allowed it on anyway, as its light shined through the gaps of his door, which for some reason bothered the Dursleys when they sat down to watch the television. But the fact that he couldn't turn on the light even if he was allowed to seemed to make the dark so much more threatening, teaming with threats, noises hinting at something lurking in the hall. 

 

The fact that the beings were barred from him by a solid wood door should have been a comfort, but that reprieving thought too was taken away, like the light, when Dudley broke it last week trying to keep him locked in by jamming jam into the mechanism. With no sight, no security and bumps and creaks sounding from places above and before him, Harry was left a thoroughly terrified six-year-old in the face of this each night.

 

His cupboard was never comfortable but this was a terrifying hell now.

 

Stuck with these thoughts tormenting his young mind, Harry almost jumped into his uncaring Aunt in his haste to escape the dark when she came to 'wake' him. 

 

"Stop jumping about, boy, you're going to wake Dudley!" screeched Aunt Petunia somewhat hypocritically in her own volume.

 

Nevertheless, Harry quickly stilled himself and his unreasonable level of excitement at leaving his cupboard, "Sorry, Aunt Petunia..."

 

"Well? What are you standing about for? Get in the kitchen, boy!"

 

~

 

Harry was not so much disappointed but resignedly expectant of the day's worsening as it drew on. As it turned out, that day they were going, along with a few of Dudley's friends (Harry's tormentors), to the Museum as a treat for Dudley getting his first passing grade in a subject. It was completely out of Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's influence, of course, the teacher being as intimidated as she was during the parent-teacher conference, had been all but forced to pass Dudley in at least one subject.

 

What Aunt Petunia had failed to realise, however, was that there was a reason Dudley had failed history; and he would be even less interested in a building full of it. Yet being in no place to voice these thoughts, Harry was dragged along at the reluctant beckon of his Aunt and Uncle. 

 

Piling into the back seat, Harry's head was soon being shoved forcefully into the door by Dudley's hands, searching for amusement. This, along with various other assaults to his person lasted them the trip to the house of the Polkisses where they were then _merrily_ joined by the ratty Piers Polkiss. With two people now hitting him from either side, Harry thoroughly missed the darkness of the cupboard; at least the monsters never _actually_ hurt him.

 

Blessedly, they eventually arrived at the Museum, where they were then sadly joined by the rest of Dudley's friends (gang).

 

~

 

Dudley and co.'s interest lasted a record time of 2 minutes until they realised that they couldn't take the swords from knights and samurai to hit each other (or rather Harry) with. After which they left Harry to himself for long enough for him to run into what looked like the most boring exhibit in the museum, it holding the smallest chance of Dudley's gang looking for him in.

 

The room was dark, which was obviously a drawback considering previously discussed events, but it aided him in this case as he looked for a place to hide. The room seemed to be filled with old furniture, antique paintings, dressers, chests, things that looked like an old mix between a printer and a computer and others that looked like a megaphone sitting on a record player.

 

His fascination was, however, short-lived as some of Dudley's friends discovered him earlier than anticipated.

 

"Oi, Dudley! He's over here!" yelled Dennis from the doorway. Quickly catching up, Dudley's flabby face appeared in the doorway wearing a sadistically gleeful smile. Soon he and his friends were winding their way through the furniture, going so far as to push some out of their path, towards Harry.

 

Frantically looking around for a place to hide, what had once appeared to be a room full of options now seemed sparse in the face of the panic flooding his brain. Seeing two, twin, wood dressers, back to back a few feet away he dived for it.

 

Within the cupboard, it seemed overwhelmingly dark, which seemed impossible but it was a blackness that seemed to absorb everything somehow but at the same time made Harry feel as though he wasn't alone in the depths of the cupboard.

 

Shaking these thoughts away, he, belatedly, he realised that hiding himself in a cupboard after they'd already caught sight of him was essentially another way of cornering himself. He didn't have much time to regret his mistake as his new cupboard (are we seeing a pattern here?) was being barraged by the hits of what was surely a pack of wild animals. The door was bashed and tugged and shoved, Harry began to believe that the five of them would rip the old door off its rusty hinges. Soon the boys seemed to tire, with one last tug their muffled mutters reached his ears through the wood.

 

"...stuck..."

 

"won't...jammed."

 

"...again!" At that, the barrage began anew.

 

That wasn't sounding too favourable...As convenient as it was for the door to remain closed while Dudley and such were attempting to get at him, he wouldn't want the door to remain closed indefinitely. If Dudley were, on the unlikely chance, to tell Aunt Petunia and Uncle Dursley about his entrapment, he wasn't even sure they would expend the time and effort to go look for him, let alone get him out.

 

The claustrophobic fear of his dark nights in the cupboard began to creep up on him again. It was so, so, so dark and the thuds and shakes continued to get more and more violent as his fear increased. But then there was a shift. He couldn't tell what in the blackness had moved as the cupboard was seemingly empty of coats and shoes, but again, it felt like he wasn't alone in the darkness.

 

The shift turned into a shove as the cupboard doors suddenly flew open with a screech of the hinges and a bang as they hit the items either side. From his position, curled into the corner of the cupboard, terrified and confused, Harry looked to see the gang of six-year-old boys staring into the cupboard, but not at him. They were staring petrified at what looked like an older teenage boy, charming and refined like no one he had ever seen, that stepped out of the cupboard (where he certainly hadn't been before the doors opened) and stalked over to the boy in front, Dudley. Seemingly made nervous by the presence of a teen at the crime scene of bullying, Dudley hesitantly began to take a step back before halting at something he must have seen on the new boy's face.

 

Stopping before him and, assumedly from Harry's angle, looking down upon Dudley, the boy sneered, "Pathetic, but no less what I should expect from a muggle like you...Let me disillusion you to your situation, _Dud_ ley. These aren't friends, these are victims of bullying too afraid to leave, and  _you_ are a spoilt brat too dim to realise the difference. But I guess its best to be that way when the truth is that Harry here, your smarter, fitter and less doted cousin can make friends more easily than  _you._ But that's just the tip of the iceberg isn't it, you sad little ball of blubber?" 

 

It was abrupt and unexpected by everyone, that this older boy would come out of nowhere and would begin to bully Dudley unprovoked. What's more unnerving was that he seemed to know quite a bit about Dudley's habits and insecurities. Who was this boy?

 

However, his ponderings were stopped at the all too familiar sound of Dudley's cries as he suddenly began to angrily ball his eyes out to the surprised and confused glances of his "friends". Embarrassed in front of his 'mates' and scared of the new person who knew just what to say to hurt him, Dudley ran off, wet and fat face in his hands as he pushed past the other boys and ran for the door; undoubtedly for his mother.

 

Even more confused and slightly wary of the man who was looking between them oddly quickly, they each quickly dashed off after their rattled leader.

 

Once each of them had left, Harry looked back from the doorway to where the boy was standing only to find the room dark again and the boy was gone.

 

~

 

Coming home after that whole debacle was an interesting and unusual affair. At the lobby, Dudley's friends said their fair wells as they departed with their parents, sparing curious looks to the boy who was curled into his confused and concerned mother's lap as he sniffled, refusing to admit it and tell her that he was bullied. Without Dudley's blame and his own late arrival to the scene, Harry was for once left blameless for the incident, though he wasn't spared a few suspicious and oddly fearful glances but his Aunt and Uncle. 

 

The car ride with Piers was quiet and awkward with Dudley's poorly hidden sniffles as the backing for the trip. Soon enough after another bewildered goodbye, they were back in Privet Drive and Dudley was being carried out of the car by Aunt Petunia while Uncle Vernon oddly ignored Harry completely, not so much as looking in his direction. 

 

Despite the world appearing slightly darker as he climbed out of the car and the drama of event that occurred today, Harry was in an abnormally positive mood. Today had just seemed to turn out right. No blame, not too much physical harm, nothing. Though he would need to ask his Aunt about getting his eyes tested (as unlikely as it would be that she complies) because looking around him, his vision was concerningly dark now, he had initially placed it down to poor lighting in the museum and tinting on the car windows, or maybe even there being the common presence of rain clouds covering the England sky, but now he was becoming increasingly concerned. it may have been nearing sunset but even pre-dusk lighting should be brighter than what Harry's eyes were registering.

 

Quickly making his way inside after everyone else where it would hopefully be brighter, Harry quickly, yet somewhat reluctantly retreated to his cupboard, unwilling to stay out in the open and risk doing something that may actually draw the Dursley's ire.

 

Once inside and the door was shut tight, the little bits of light that entered his cupboard seemed to flare and settle back to the brightness they should be, but in contrast, the blackness seemed even deeper; giving off that same feeling of company as the dresser in the museum had. 

 

Childhood imagination all to active after the events of today and welcoming of the idea of company, Harry attempted to see if he were indeed not alone within this cupboard.

 

"Hello?" He whispered hesitantly, not wanting the Dursley's to rouse him for talking to himself like a 'freak' but also uncertain if he was indeed crazy for doing this, "My name is Harry."

 

Just like before he felt an imperceptible shift in something and he looked up to see the one little sketch pad he had nicked from Dudley propped up in the unnatural darkness of his shelf, the darkness seemingly having receded to that area, either by coincidence, a trick of the light or...maybe for him to see the note pad? The broken red crayon on the shelf too appeared to have been used to write the startling words  _'Hello, Harry. I am Voldemort, but you may call me Tom.'_

 

~

 

That night and for each night onwards, the darkness didn't seem so scary, but rather, a friendly and warm cocoon of safety. A home, waiting to ensconce him and block out the monsters outside his haven underneath the stairs.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, if you have any questions, comments or suggestions for certain chapters/one-shots/stories, etc. just flip me a comment and I'll most likely write one! If any of these chapters you see you really like and want an extension you can comment that too and I'll see what I can do, from another chapter to maybe even a full fledged plot. Who knows. I do have However Long Ago the World Ended though to update cuz its been ages but yeah... Anyway, thanks for reading!


	3. C is for Serial Killer?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No-one would ever be able to argue the point that Voldemort wasn't a serial killer, and while in Hogwarts, no-one would have been able to argue that he wouldn't become one. Not with the looks he aimed at all Hermione Granger at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Stumbles out of some non-descript wilderness*  
> I'M BACK! Again...  
> 

It was as ordinary a morning as any other in Abraxas' opinion, as he served himself some of the ripe and fresh fruit on the similarly crisp spring morning. Although, the ominous and ever so daunting aura coming from his left was slightly off-putting to his appetite. Looking over with a sharp reprimand ready on his tongue for whoever was being so un-Slytherin with their emotions, he quickly swallowed it as he realised it was Tom Riddle- _his Lord_. 

 

The normally stoic yet charming sixth year was currently digging at his cereal with an unwarranted aggressiveness and glaring shamelessly across the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table, presumably.

 

Completely understandable in Abraxas' opinion. The lot of them were utter buffoons, acting without fail in any instance as embarrassments to the name witch or wizard. Yet, as sympathetic Abraxas was to this sentiment, to see his Lord, let alone  _any_ honourable Slytherin openly show such contempt without any airs to mask it was unsettling. Nearly as unsettling as the 'serial killer' glare Tom Riddle had set on the mudbloodbeside one Harry Potter. 

No-one would be able to argue that Tom Riddle- _Lord Voldemort_ would not become a serial killer- It was necessary in order to reshape this damned society. Yet anyone unaware of these plans wouldn't be able to argue it either, not with the look he was aiming at Hermione Granger at least.

Ah, yes, his Lord did hold quite the contempt for mudbloods in particular- as did all his followers. While the reasons for such were obvious, they were nothing new and couldn't alone draw this much of his Lord's ire. Following his line of sight, he saw that the mudblood was untowardly excited for some reason as she was gripping Potter's arms and talking excitedly and ceaselessly right in the man's face. He felt a little sympathy for Potter; he looked panicked, to be honest, and wholly uncomprehending of what was being said to him.

 

Looking around the table, he noticed a few other heads turning inconspicuously between his Lord's expression and the scene being made on the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. Either his Lord's fury was being noticed or the few noticing it now had already been aware his Lord would react as such to this event.

 

Soon, it clicked, as he stared at the overly excited mudblood gathering more of her mudblood friends and his Lord's mounting anger in return; it was palpable at this point.

 

Looking back over to his Lord he decided he would save his dignity in the most discreet way possible.

 

Quietly whispering to his Lord's side, he said with a slight smirk, "My Lord, I'm sure whatever the cereal has done, it surely doesn't deserve such a violent death as penance."

 

The twist of the lips was soon smoothed over, however, with the hidden reprimand in his Lord's response, "And when has it been your jurisdiction that defines a justly earnt punishment, _Abraxas_?" He said his name with a sneer, rejecting his request to know what Granger had done.

 

Yet as the crowd surrounding Potter and Granger slowly dispersed and the pair fell into calmer conversations with surrounding students and his Lord calmed in turn, Abraxas merely sat back in satisfaction, having received his answer nevertheless.

 

My, my his Lord was insecure...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping the meanings in the story weren't too Slytherin-ly encoded... I did make some things more obvious like Hermione's connection with the cereal in the conversation and the fact that the interaction showed Abraxas that Tom was a little bit jealous and possessive in the moment where Harry was being touched and surrounded by so many people- inferior mudbloods no less. But yeah... anyway, hope you enjoyed and comment what you thought, feedback or requests for continuations or plot prompts!


	4. D is for Dragons and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry had been doing this whole universe jumping shindig for a while; in doing so he'd seen a lot of weird stuff. But this was the first time he'd met a Voldemort equivalent that wasn't human...if you could have ever called the snake-faced git that. Yet he had been in this universe for all of two minutes before he was met with the altogether different and similar scaly face, was scooped up and flown off to god knows where. What will it be this time? Rituals? Immediate Death? Some elaborate and convoluted scheme to orchestrate his demise and inevitably fail due to its complexity?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is inspired by the fanfic 'More Precious Than Rubies' by Strange Soulmates. While it's not finished (as much as I wish it was) it is a WAY BETTER fanfiction and considerably longer than this one. I loved it and have gone back to read it multiple times. I strongly suggest you guys read it and tell me what you think too! Its one of the few Dragon!Voldemort fics I've read and it's SUPER cute. For real, go read it. I'll put the link at the end of the chapter. Enjoy the fic!

Harry had been doing this whole universe jumping shindig for a while; in doing so he'd seen **a lot** of _weird_ stuff. But this was the first time he'd met a Voldemort equivalent that wasn't human...if you could have ever called the snake-faced git that. Yet he had been in this universe for what was surely a few hours before he was met with the altogether different and similar scaly face, was scooped up and flown off to god knows where. What will it be this time? Rituals? Immediate Death? Some elaborate and convoluted scheme to orchestrate his demise and inevitably fail due to its complexity?  

 

Nothing quite as exciting as any of the above it seems. 

 

First off, every time Harry jumped ship to another universe, he had to choose an age to manifest as. It wouldn't do to continue aging as he goes through every universe, especially if he is trying to save half of them. That said, more often than not, he plays it safe by going into each new life as a child, mainly because it gives him the most time to get stuff done without drawing suspicion to his lack of aging later in life, and it also allows him to blend into the world better, a little trustworthy child which soon becomes someone the whole town has seen grow up and come to know. Nothing to suspect and fair well a one size fits all for no matter what universe he is thrown into; Death likes the amusement of not telling him what he has lined up.

 

Yet upon entering this universe, he was reminded of the one drawback to his choice: when it came to defending himself, he was as defenceless as the infant he chose to become.

 

He had felt the mind-lulling warmth of a womb upon awakening, a familiar feeling having woken up much the same way in countless other universes. Then came the inevitable and ever unpleasant birthing into the worth. Generally, all the chaos of that was followed by many smiles and somewhat hysterical James much of the time (if he did have the same parents in that universe). Alas, sometimes it wasn't meant to be and he is torn from his parents sooner than he had been the first time and would ever like to be.

 

This was one of those times.

 

The peace that should have come was shortlived and soon replaced by fire and screams. His mother, Lily this time, too weak still, from the birthing it seemed, passed him to James as she could not stand, let alone run. James was hesitant, there was that ever-present instinct in James to protect. But Lily's will was stronger than that of the fire quickly moving to ensconce them further and James heeded to her yells.

 

"It's better to save the life of our son who hasn't lived yet than mine!" was her final cry before James conceded with palpable agony. He held Harry in one arm while he caressed his wife's cheek with the other, then forever parted ways with a tearful kiss. James ran then, leaving behind the sound Lily crying between coughs as she choked on the smoke; though these sounds were soon silenced with a creak and groan of wooden rafters as the roof collapsed upon her. 

 

James ran, down a stairway by the feel of it, downs a few short and sharp turns- must have been a small house this time- and jumped over some debris it seemed. He couldn't tell as he was being clutched so fiercely to his father's chest all the while. 

 

Soon they were breathing cooler air, but only just. He couldn't say it was much fresher though. if the uneased tenseness of his father's shoulders told him anything, it was more than their house that was being consumed by flames.

 

"My god..." was James' muttered words of devastation and shock.

 

He was readjusted slightly and it gave him the view of the hell lying over James' shoulder. It seemed the world was more fire than anything else; any building that may have once stood in what seemed to be a medieval village was completely aflame. Not a landmark or manmade structure was free from this blazing fury.

 

Harry wondered if it was Death Eaters. It was really their style, they were more for the glory of doing the kill directly than mass murder with a middle man. The fire seemed too simple, too risky. Especially with this fire clearly not being  _Fiend Fire_ , are fearsome as it was. Surely his father and mother could have extinguished these flames with their magic, like all other magic folks that live here? But then it occurred to him, perhaps they didn't have magic this time? Maybe this was simply the work of a major arsonist? 

 

The thought strangely scared him. How illogical was that? The possibility that, for once, it isn't an all-powerful, semi-immortal psychopath, but normal, mortal lunatics? or perhaps it was the mortality his loved ones now possessed. A simple muggle fire could kill his mother in this universe whereas in any other she would simply have said one word and summoned life-saving water from her wand tip. The thought made his infant form threaten itself with the possibility of tears.

 

As though sensing this, James held him closer and awoke from his stunned daze, deciding to make a move. Looking around, James found a stable where the shrieks of panicked horses where crying from. He ran full tilt for it and broke open the door, snagging a horse as it sprinted by and slid on with an admittedly impressive display of agility. Riding bareback and gripping the mane of the beast, James burst forth, trusting the rest of the horses to know the quickest route out of the village.

 

The town, however, seemed to be split by a river. To cross, they needed to pass over a bridge connecting the two halves. Upon highspeed approach, it looked sturdy enough, yet after 6 horses bursting across it in a scrambled panic, it had looked better. When it came to their turn to cross they had gotten about halfway with a cracked board broke and had them tumbling off the now trapped and a possibly injured horse. James, too compassionate to abandon the animal and make their own dash to safety, laid Harry on the cobblestone just after the end of the bridge, out of the way in case the horse bolted for it after it was free. He then jumped down into the river and pulled himself along the side of the bridge by the wooding railings. Coming to the side of the entrapped horse, he ducked under the bridge and began to attempt to push the bloodied hoof free. At his touch, however, the horse became spooked by the unseen predator in its state of vulnerability and kicked at whatever it could beneath the wood: James.

 

The man was hit in the head as he tried to get a good look at how to get the hoof past the splintered wood. Stumbling back, he seemed just a bit dazed at the sudden force, but as he stumbled back, his leg caught on a support beam and caused him to fall back and hit his head on one of the rocks jutting out just above the water. The crack was sickening and enough to have the horse forcefully break its leg free and sprint away, leaving Harry to stare at his unconscious father as he surely lost more and more of his life to the blood seeping into the water.

 

As much as Harry would love to say he was desensitized to the deaths of his loved ones by now, he can't. It would always hurt, to have to see them die over and over in every life he lived. Sure, not all deaths were terrible, the ones where they all lived to the ripe old age of one-hundred and something and died in their sleep was far better than murder any day of the week. But the death of a loved one was never a happy experience.

 

Seeing his father die this way, it was jarring, James had never died like this before; so inconsequential, inadvertent. it was most often at the wands of Death Eaters or the Dark Lord. To die while trying to release a panicked horse from its holding was insulting. Any James Potter he had ever met had been deserving of nothing less than a heroic death in battle or in the arms of his wife, Lily. And now, Harry was left, helpless, alone, at the scene of his last known relative dying in front of him while he could do nothing and the fire that claimed his mother spreading and moving closer on all sides.

 

He knows this has all happened before but GOD DAMN IT. He would have loved to have known these versions of his parents, in this time where there was no magic and concepts of the Post-Modern Era hadn't even been pondered yet! Yet, of course, they had to be ripped from him in this cruel and unglorified way. 

 

He was somewhat grateful when the old bridge before him caught fire and collapsed on top of his father's body like the roof had on his mother's; it erased the sight of his now surely dead body lying there from his vision. Conceiting to his inability to get away from the now terrifyingly close flames, he merely asked death in his mind that he have more time in this world than what this Harry was surely destined. 

~

He awoke to blackness and a strange vacuum-like sensation from said blackness. It was an entirely new and unwelcome sensation that he had no name for, that was until the blackness moved back and he identified it as the abyss of a dragon's nostril. 

 

_Huh...a loose dragon. I guess that makes sense, with no wizards to contain them they probably run rampant, lighting villages aflame left, right an-._

 

A dragon just happened to turn up among the ruins of the village after the flames had abated? Harry had undoubtedly just discovered his arsonist. Tilting his head up as much as he could to take in the beast, he was struck dumb by its resemblance to an all too familiar individual in all his lives.

 

The reptile was huge, three-story house huge. It had an armour-like coat of iridescent-white scales covering a long and finely muscled body. The most terrifying feature, as was the same with all his forms, however, was the blood red irises surrounding the feline slit of a pupil. 

 

_Perhaps this Harry was destined to die at this Voldemort's han- **claw** no matter what?_

 

Deciding that he might as well take in the sight of his death while he waited for it to get on with offing him, Harry leaned back slightly further to get a better look at the horns perched on top of the head that mercifully blocked the morning sun from his face. Yet it seemed this was too high a demand for his tiny infant balance as he toppled back with a small, surprised-

 

"Oof."

 

The dragon, who had been looking around the area in seeming confusion then looked back down at the babe between it razor claws. It's confusion as to how he survived the fire, being as pathetic as he was a feeling not needing to be conveyed through words to Harry. Nevertheless, the only warning Harry got was the Voldemort-Dragon's dilation of its pupils before he was hoisted into the air by his wraps and was soon soaring at a height we had hoped to never reach again after he, Ron and Hermione broke into/out of Gringott's. He was almost tempted to start crying like the infant in him wanted to just to teach the Voldie-dragon some manners and a lesson of consent and kidnapping. While the consent part was a little hard to gain from him in this state there would still be merit points for trying!

 

He wasn't certain how fast or far they flew, but when they landed, they were nowhere recognisable to Harry, no visible landmarks to show that they were close to the village they had just abandoned. They seemed to be on a mountainside, rising up from a sea of trees. He would have loved to appreciate the view, had the dragon set him there rather than carried him into what Harry assumed must have been his den. Yet when they entered, the word horde came to Harry's mind as he was presented with a view just as stunning at the one outside the cave. While the mountain resided in a sea of trees, within it resided a sea of riches. 

 

Gold appeared to be the dominant theme, predictably. There were mountains of gold coins of all currencies, jewellery of all makes and metals, jewels of every rarity, size, colour and shape, such things were left free or were embedded in other items like armour, chests, chalices, cutlery, daggers, shields and swords. Harry was placed carefully, so as not to disturb anything, on top of one o the larger and more extravagant piles; so large that a slip or a tumble meant a sure drop to his death, whether it be from the impact from such height or on one of the daggers and swords that surely reside below. Despite this very legitimate concern, the position gave him an even more spectacular vantage point from which to admire his new and astounding surroundings.

 

The collection shone as much as their owners own scales, in fact, they seemed to reflect off each other to make the most majestic sight. Harry would allow himself but one time to look at what admittedly was the Dark Lord in such a way before he forced himself to shake off the awe. Said Dragon was currently seated before him looking around his horde and back at Harry, tilting his head and peering down at the mountain he sat on with apparent dissatisfaction. It was almost like some cliche interior designer trying to decide whether a certain piece fit with the room or what need to be added to the look.

 

Harry sincerely hoped that it was an issue of what was missing rather than what needed to go as, being the newest addition to the room, it would most likely be him that 'goes'. Yet it seemed his hopes were well-received as the dragon raised itself towards him and stared him dead in the eyes, as though telling him not to go anywhere. Then the giant white lizard was gone, leaving Harry with nothing to do but stare around at the cave walls and hope that none of the coins beneath him would slip. 

~

It seemed that over the years that dragon would do that a lot. A behaviour Harry grew quite fond of as the dragon never seemed satisfied, a trait all too akin to his alternate selves- an obsession with perfection. While dragons weren't vain creature in the way of decorating themselves, they were certainly prideful enough in their hordes to compensate, even if, oddly enough, no one would ever see it due to their insane possessiveness of it. Sounds kinda pointless right? Voldie-dragon didn't seem to think so, however, as he continually brought back various new items to add.

 

Originally they started as much the same items as he already had, more swords, more gold. But then he saw Harry playing with some of the jewellery, hanging as many as he could off himself for fun, and something seemed to click in the old reptile's head. Soon, Harry was be presented with necklaces of the utmost extravagance, bangles and even crowns of the finest calibre. It then progressed into silks, silken blankets and robes, embroidered with gold threat and what looked like unicorn hair. The dragon seemed most happy when he was ensconced in its gifts so he made a nest on his mountain from the silken blankets and too large robes, and found himself wearing his favourites of the robes and jewels that fit. And the crown, despite it not fitting, could you really blame him for wearing a crown when he was gifted one? He just tried not to think about what patriarchy fell to get him this gift.

 

He was still quite confused as to why Voldemort kept him all these years, gave him all these gifts, or even took him in the first place. From what he knew of dragons, they were exceptionally greedy and even more so possessive. Their horde was to be entirely their own and not something to be shared or invaded, yet here he sat, as he has for the last eight years, atop what he could only now describe as a pedestal. After all the time, however, he has spent with the dragon, he has come to link the personality instilled in its counterparts with the actions of this overgrown lizard. Harry's best guess was that it had something to do with Tom's admiration and hunger for power. The dragon always loved seeing Harry make treasures or any food Voldemort caught for him float up to his nest, just as much as he loved seeing Harry animate creatures out of fire or make stars fly onto the cave walls in the night when it was too dark. Little performances of magic seemed to bring forth a spark in those red eyes that was reminiscent of the look he had when he brought home a new treasure or saw Harry play among the mounds, but it was burning and strong in those moments of magic.

 

With these observations, Harry assumed he had been adopted into Voldemorts horde. This posed a prospect slightly inconvenient, terrifying, flattering and useful all at the same time. For one, the chances of him leaving the cave ever again in this lifetime just fell to somewhere around... **zero**. But on the other hand, a Dragon's horde was filled with things of only the highest value to them, things that show of their wealth and thereby power. To be considered an example of such power was quite the compliment in Harry's mind. But then again, maybe he's just been hanging around dragons too long...But as well, being part of  Voldemort's horde meant unconditional protection, anything, anytime, anywhere-which for reasons stated earlier will most likely be with in the cave- Voldemort would be there to burn the threat to a crisp.

 

While all that was well and good, it still didn't solve the fact that Harry wanted to adventure this new world. He wanted to go out and see who was out there, what exactly was different? Was his village the equivalent of Godric's Hollow and his other friends still alive?  Did all his friends know each other despite no longer being connected by magic? Was there some Hogwarts school here? Even if it didn't teach magic?

 

The questions had always been there but over the years they had simply been mounting and leaving Harry more and more restless. As expansive and lavish as the cave is, it is not big enough anymore.

 

This was a concept he tried explaining to Voldemort who in these moments, he couldn't help but endear as Tom. 

 

" _Tom_ , I can't stay here  **forever** ," Harry whined from his perch at the dragon below was curled around Harry's mountain- seemingly offended, "It's a very nice cave, I assure you, I love the  _all_ of the gifts you bring me. It's just...it's not big enough for me any more... I need to stretch my legs, feel the sun on my skin, you know? Leave the  _nest_." he gestured to the cradle of blankets he was currently sat in.

 

Something in the argument seemed to hit home with Tom though as he slinked up and to look at him. He seemed to size Harry up and look all around the cave. Before giving him a bewildered look. he was looking at Harry as though  _he_ was the unreasonable one here. Nevertheless, the dragon blew a resigned puff of smoke from his nostrils, nuzzled his snout into Harry indulgingly and left with Harry only catching a glimpse of determination in those red eyes before the dragon was flying out of the cave at speeds he'd never seen the dragon reach.

 

Left bemused and with a little more than ambiguous answer, Harry looked at the setting sun through the cave opening and decided he wouldn't risk the dragon's wrath by assuming he had permission to leave just yet. Tom was planning something if his purposeful exit was anything to go by, he would just need to wait for him to return.

~

Upon awakening, Harry realised that something was off. Opening his eyes, Harry quickly shut them again at the burning light that hit them. It had been a LONG while since he had been in direct sunlight so  _this_ was an unpleasant change to wake up to. When his eyes could finally stand it he looked above him to see a ** _blue sky_**.

 

_Has that Dragon let me out? ...kicked me out?_

 

The excitement at the first thought was shortlived as the second game slipping through. Bolting up, Harry realised he wasn't  _quite_ outside the cave. While it certainly wasn't the same cave he went to sleep in and was arguably no a cave at all, it still was an enclosure remade into a sort of den. He was inside the magma chamber of a  _volcano_.  ** _A VOLCANO._** Given, it must have been an extinct volcano, seeing as the base, far below the opening, was solid igneous rock. 

 

How did he get here though? This new den was far larger than his last cave and was clearly not in the same location, but the treasure looked the same and his nest was obviously still here and untouched... Arriving, as though to bring an end to his ponderings was a shadow to block out the sun as it soared into the new cave. 

 

There was Tom, in all his glistening glory, sitting before him expectantly, waiting for his cue to preen and act smug. 

 

"You did this didn't you?" asked Harry with a slightly amused twitch of the lips, "You moved your entire horde here?"

 

Tom nodded and raised a non-existent eyebrow as though that were to be obvious, a move that so reminded him of Severus. 

 

"You know this isn't what I meant by, _'I need to stretch my legs, feel the sun on my skin'_ , right? I meant I wanted to simply leave to cave, explore the world."

 

Tom looked somewhat put out at that, in the way his wings fell to the floor beside him and he snorted another expressive puff of smoke from his scrunched up snout.

 

"No no no, I mean, this is a very nice den  _as well_. I appreciate that I can see the sun now and I'll be able to star gaze at night. And the fact that the cave as a whole is bigger, even if our last one was already enough for me to get lost in..." an event that had happened more than one when he was younger and ventured too far from his perch.

Tom perked up slightly at the praise and swivelled a telltale ear towards Harry to hear more praise to heal his wounded ego.

 

Harry sighed at how one-track minded his dragon was, "I  _guess_ this will satisfy me  **for now** , My oh so _skilful_ provider you," Harry lathered the praise on thick with a roll of his eyes to get Tom out of his huff. He slouched on the edge of his nest to watch Tom with a fond smile as the dragon's ears folded back and he raised his head high, looking for all the world like the egotistical git he was.

 

Typical Tom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...this was supposed to be simple fluff I'm currently writing it and there is SO MUCH ANGST NOW. I apologise, I'm gonna go back to writing this and try to continue it with all the fluff of a cotton bud to compensate. Also! Read 'More Precious Than Rubies' here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11421858/1/More-Precious-than-Rubies 
> 
> As always, comment your thoughts, suggestions for later chapters and requests for any one-shots you might want to be continued! Love hearing your thoughts!


	5. E is for Emotions, Elves, Enigma and Ew (E stands for a lot of things...)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom really hates Spring and everything it entails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, ew isn't a word but with how much I use it, it should be a word in the dictionary.
> 
> "What do we have next?" I ask my non-descript friend with a naive and hopeful glint shimmering in my eyes.
> 
> "Crap..." says non-descript friend as they look at their timetable, "Chemistry."
> 
> "Ew." Comes my muffled reply as my head falls into my arms.

_It's Spring._

 

Thought Tom as he looked around the clearing he had been trying to train in. 

 

_Disgusting._

 

When he had arrived at Dawn, the field was deserted and quiet; serene with the noise of just rustling leaves in the fresh morning wind to reach his elongated, elfish ears. Though he had gotten a few hours work in, it hadn't remained uninterrupted for long as with the warm sun came couples.

 

'Couples? What kind of couples? Couples of what?' are probably the questions you ask. The answer is 'the worst kind'; **lovers**. They all seemed out of it, completely; dancing, sitting on each other's laps, hand-holding,  _kissing_ , groping, rolling among the flowers, laughing, singing, making  _flower crowns_?! Tom had to wonder what it was about Spring that leads all creatures to lose their dignity and inhibitions. It was like they were all drunk on the pollen in the air; which Tom knew, disgustingly enough, was essentially airborne plant sperm-ever since learning that tidbit he attempted not to breathe any in despite knowing it was harmless to him.

 

Never the less, the overt amounts of affection and perverted acts happening around his once peaceful field were supremely off-putting. Preparing for his hurried retreat, Tom began to pack up his many scattered spellbooks. While leaning down to pick one up that was lying open, he saw a spell used by wizards to torture each other.

 

_If only I could use wizard magic..._

 

Thought Tom wistfully, as he glanced around the field disdainfully.

 

_A Crucio sounds lovely right about now._

 

His dark thoughts were interrupted, however, by the fragmenting of light on the grass before him, alerting him to the presence of a fairy behind him.

 

"I've told you before, Harry," said Tom with a smirk, as he quickly closed the book on wizarding spells and straightened up, "You need to hide your wings if you're going to sneak up on anyone-especially me."

 

The projected rainbows disappeared before him and he turned around to see Harry looked deflated and disappointed, wings lowered to the ground in a disgustingly open display of emotion. Admittedly though, they were beautiful, all translucent and iridescent, though most often appearing to be a spring green- like his eyes- with gold lightning bolt detailing; even if they gave away too much about one's mental state for Tom to covet them. But they did suit Harry in the same way they wouldn't suit Tom; Harry was so open and turbulent that having another extension of himself to show it more clearly seemed fitting for his personality.

 

"But I guess you can't exactly help it, you always get so excited- caught up in the moment; it must be hard to contain that." Tom amusedly mused, yet undeniably fond.

 

"You're just getting jealous again," Wings back up and fluttering playfully as Harry crossed his arms and looked away with an arrogantly jutted chin, "You with your plain back and all that dullness."

 

Tom knew Harry was kidding, they'd had this little banter many times before but never tired of it.

 

"Yes, Harry, I think those garish wings of yours would look positively splendid on me. They would especially compliment my bright and shining personality." Tom countered with more sarcasm than should legal in two sentences. 

 

"Just hurry up and get your damned books; you're souring the atmosphere," complained Harry, giving Tom the side-eye.

 

"Perfect, it could do with a little souring. It's so sweet here, I'm almost concerned about these poor elf folk getting  _diabetes_ or  _cavities_..." sniffed Tom as he moved past Harry, towards the edge of the clearing.

 

" _Cavities? Diabetes?_ What on Mother Earth are you going on about? You've been reading those books about humans again haven't you?! Dumbledore says to stay away from those-," 

 

"Dumbledore is the leader of  _your_ faction Harry: The Fae. Being an  _Elf,_ I don't have to give a pixie's ass about what he says."

 

"How can you live on honey and tree sap and still be so bitter..." asked Harry, rhetorically, "I will truly never understand you. Look at all these people, being so sweet and in  _love!_ Why can't you be like that? I want affection too, Tom!" 

 

Looking to the couple Harry was gesturing towards, Tom saw a bushy-haired fairy laughing, tears rolling down her cheeks as he red-headed fae partner continued to tickle her and kiss her neck. To anyone else, it may have been cute, but in Tom's opinion, it was-

 

" ** _Ew._** "

 

And with that he made his strategic retreat, pulling Harry along with him as though the PDA behind them were an infectious disease. Yet as he did so, he entwined his and Harry's fingers with a meaningful squeeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, enigma wasn't explicitly stated but I hope I conveyed it well enough through Tom. I'm also wondering if anyone can guess what F will be. Its already been hinted at in this chapter! As always, please comment your thoughts, suggestions for later chapters and any ones you want to be continued! Thank you!


	6. F is for Fairies and FLUFF!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Continuation of the last chapter)  
> Harry persuades Tom of the appeal of affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this instead of doing my math homework. Woohoo, living life on the edge...

Tom and Harry were still walking, hands clasped, back to their cottage and _away_ from the horror show- in Tom’s opinion- that became of the field he was training in. Trudging along the dirt path trodden into the ground between the trees from frequent use, Harry continues to try and defend the scene in the clearing.

 

“Really, Tom, it’s not _that_ bad. It’s not like they were getting jiggy with each other in the flower patch! They were just cuddling!”

 

“Getting _jiggy_?” Tom raised an eyebrow, before continuing, “And if that was your memory of it then we must have been in completely different fields…”

 

Harry huffed in frustration at Tom’s stubbornness. He took comfort in the fact that Tom was still holding his hand though; seemed about as much as he was going to get for the moment…

 

“Do you even know _why_ everyone is acting this way?” Harry asked exasperated, yet half expecting the usual textbook standard from him.

 

“Sex pollen? Spring fever? Some sort of inane and undignifying and seasonal phenomena?” supplied Tom, clueless for once, “ _’Romantic’_ habits and norms of fairies isn’t exactly a topic I find enthralling enough to add to my list of other research pursuits.”

 

“ _I’ll make it goddamn enthralling, Tom Riddle…”_ grumbled Harry under his breath as he pouted at his elf counterpart beside him, “It’s a tradition in our culture!”

 

Tom looked at him from the corner of his eye with a look of lacking amusement, “ _Really?_ Like ‘Valentine’s’ as the humans call it? As I said before, disgusting.”

 

“No! Honestly, Tom, I would have expected you of all people to at least have heard of some of the Fae’s traditions and customs! It started with Queen Aeval of South Munster. Essentially, a debate was started in her court over whether the kingdom’s women were having their…uh, _romantic_ needs met by their men…Uh, But the point is that in the end it was deemed true and now we have today for them to act upon it. Nowadays, it’s more just for partners to indulge each other, man or woman! **_Lá Gnéis_** is an important and highly celebrated day in our calendar!”

 

They’d reached their cottage now, ensconced in plants and life like all the others hidden about the woods. They passed through the front gate and passed through Harry’s beloved garden as they made for the front door.

 

“Harry that literally translates to ‘Sex Day’ are you kidding me?” Tom gave him an indescribable look, it was filled with both disappointment and exasperation but also the message of ‘what the hell’ and ‘why do I associate with you?’.

 

Harry pulled them to a stop just before the door of the cottage and planted his feet into the ground, casting his eyes in the same direction, he held Tom’s hand even tighter.

 

Tom looked over, confused, only to be pulled up short at the rare sight of an overwhelmed Harry. While Harry was very exuberant and emotional, he rarely allowed things like hurt and sadness overcome him, when it did though, there was normally something deeper under it all.

 

“Harry?” Tom prompted, swinging their clasped hands between them to get his attention.

 

“It’s just, I grew up seeing everyone enjoy the day and seeing everyone give and experience so much love…I couldn’t wait to have that myself. Now that I have you, I’d been hoping…” Harry cut off there, not having enough confidence in his voice not breaking.

 

Tom sighed, he really had gotten used to giving Harry the barest touches outside of the bedroom. It’s just how he is and he thought Harry to be strangely like that too. He really shouldn’t have overlooked this part of Harry’s culture though, especially with home adamant he had been about defending it. Deciding to ‘indulge’ Harry in this tradition, Tom opened the door and forcefully pulled Harry from where he had planted himself.

 

Walking inside, Tom dumped his training gear in the hall to clean up later and dragged the bewildered and disgruntled Harry behind him, up the stairs to their bedroom. He then scooped Harry up and began to kiss his face- _thoroughly_. He’d make **certain** Harry was god-damned satisfied after this; leave no inch of skin untouched.

 

Continuing his excessive ministrations to the surprised giggles bubbling from Harry’s lips, Tom brought them to this side of the bed and lowered Harry to the mattress, minding the wings. Without allowing his lips to leave the fairy’s face, the elf climbed atop him, caging Harry in between his arms and legs. Once satisfied that every inch of Harry’s face had been kissed, Tom then made a leisurely path down from Harry’s forehead, down to the tip of his nose, to his lips. Soft and plush as the flowers Harry grew in his garden, Tom enjoyed the feeling of the contact with his own as he moved his lips tenderly against Harry’s in a sensual and ensnaring dance.

 

Pulling back, however, Tom forced himself to move away from them and down Harry’s jaw to his neck. Nibbling and sucking, Tom enjoyed the small whimpers and whines different areas of contact drew from Harry. Licking over the red and teased marks, Tom soothed Harry by kissing over them before coming to the obstruction of Harry’s shirt. Where Tom would normally already have this hindrance off and torn to pieces, he had another idea today. With a smirk, he moved back up to where Harry’s was panting slightly with eyes hooded and was wriggling his hips slightly further below.

 

Harry was always easy to rile up; it was something Tom absolutely adored and took utter and sadistic advantage of.

 

“Tom~! Why-?” Began Harry, confused and irritated that Tom had stopped his ministrations from escalating, let alone continue.

 

“Shh, we wouldn’t want this to escalate into anything too scandalous, now would we? After all,” Tom purred, lips rushing against the place just behind Harry’s ear as he teased him with nips and pecks, “Everyone in the field was just _cuddling;_ we wouldn’t want to make this holiday into anything _perverse_.”

 

“B-but _you_ said it means-,“ Tom interrupted that train of thought by fitting his lips over Harry’s own, before moving back before things could deepen.

 

“Ah, indeed I did, but it’s about how it’s observed _now-days,_ is it not?” Tom was having way too much fun with this day of indulging _Harry_.

 

“Your partner is feeling awfully dissatisfied, _Tom_.” Warned Harry with a pout and scrunched up nose that Tom couldn’t help but melt for.

 

Moving down to nuzzle just under Harry’s jaw, Tom kissed it apologetically before quickly flipping them over. In a far more comfortable position, Tom leaned back against the pillows and pulled his startled and disoriented Harry further into his lap. Running his fingers through his thick, raven locks, not even bothering to attempt to tame it, Tom allowed himself to enjoy the rare instance of intimate affection and enjoyed the feeling of Harry relaxing further into him, making himself more comfortable against Tom’s stomach.

 

Deciding he would have to settle for this rather than any hokey pokey, Harry closed his eyes and settled in for a long bout of relaxing petting, enjoying the way Tom’s long fingers ran through his hair, gently disentangling it and scratching his scalp occasionally. Letting out a contented sigh, Harry hugged his arms around Tom’s waist and nuzzled into a comfortable position there.

 

 

Checking that Harry was preoccupied, Tom kept up his finger’s movements through the black strands while using his other hand to stealthily reach over to the bedside and grab a book, being cautious not to jostle Harry and tip him off to what he was doing. Successfully nabbing it, Tom flicked open to the right page with one finger and continued reading where he left off last night.

 

Really, if they did this every **_Lá Gnéis,_** he wouldn’t have that huge a problem with it, it’s just everyone else’s existence, like in most things, that ruins it. But, looking down at his lover, Tom had quite the appealing thought; perhaps next year, they simply wouldn’t leave the bed…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, leave a kudos if you liked it and comment; what you think, any one-shots you want to be continued or suggestion for later letters! Even a plot for the chapter if you like!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. G is for Game show, Greed, Green, Gold and Ghost_Reader_No_6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing his date does when he meets him is hand him a briefcase with half a million dollars in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Ghost_Reader_No_6 for inspiring me to continue writing this chapter ASAP and for giving the most suggestions for future fics.
> 
> In co-op with this, it is also dedicated to Gurgaraneth who comments on basically every chapter of both my works which is always appreciated and because I'm biased to my fellow Slytherins, shamelessly. 
> 
> Thanks, guys and enjoy your chapter!

Harry knew it was a stupid idea to go on a Gameshow, **_'Give Me Love, Or Give Me Money'_**. The whole concept of the show was completely shallow, go on a date with a guy (or girl) who has been given half a million dollars to design the perfect date to woo the contestant. If the contestant was not swayed, and the audience votes in their favour, the contestant may leave with one million dollars instead of a partner. 

 

Nevertheless, he hadn't been having much luck on the dating scene (celebrity status does not leave one with a wide pool to pick from) and he was here now. He had walked onto the set, sat down to have his make up and outfit made up for him and then allowed himself to be shoved onto the scene.

 

He honestly didn't know who he was going to date or what on earth to expect; he hadn't watched the show himself, he'd merely been told by his mate, Ron's, ex, Lavender Brown who  _did_ watch the show, that they were looking for an icon to put on the show. Harry, being a childhood movie star from  _The Chosen One_ franchise, was the perfect face to tac onto the commercials.

 

He hadn't known whether he would be receiving a gazebo dusted with rose petals and a candlelit dinner, or a flight to the other side of the world, to a private island to do whatever they wished. But what he got hadn't occurred to him in the slightest.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing his date does when he meets him is give Harry a briefcase with half a million dollars in it.

 

“What’s this?” asks Harry, half suspicious, half utter dumbstruck at holding this much money.

 

“A gift, a bribe, collateral, depends on how you want to look at it,” shrugs the handsome man before him. The man stood there, hands in pockets with a relaxed smirk, fitting all the requirements needed to meet the **Tall, Dark and Handsome** category _(This tag should just be made a synonym of Tom Riddle on AO3)_.

 

“Collateral?” Harry raises his eyebrows along with a small, amused twitch of the lips, “For what?”

 

“In case this date goes badly, at least you have something to leave with, if not a partner.” Reasons the man with too lackadaisical of a shrug for someone who just handed over £300,000.

 

“And what would _your_ collateral be for this date, then?” inquired Harry, still quite amused by the situation and man before him.

 

“Collateral is only necessary if there is a chance for failure. That said, I don’t have any.” Smirked the man, more broadly this time, dark eyes boring into Harry’s green ones with an intimate intensity.

 

_Well…He’s got confidence in spades, I have to give him that- he certainly seems to think the audience would side with him if I did reject him..._

Yet realising something, Harry looks down at the case in his hands, startled.

 

“Isn’t this the same amount of money that was supposed to be spent on the date?!” Harry questioned, alarmed, “Surely you didn’t expect that giving me a case with a ton of money in it would be an acceptable date?! Do you really think me that shallow?!”

 

Really, Harry couldn't talk about being shallow, he was _here_ after all- he was wealthy too; he didn't even need this money. Most of his inheritance was from his parents, he didn't like spending what he felt he hadn't earnt. He lived as a middle-class citizen essentially- even with all the drawbacks of a budget, it really came down to the principle for Harry.

 

Suddenly, he realised that he was acting just like all those identities you see on Reality T.V, but he couldn’t care enough to feel ashamed at the moment as he stared down the arrogant stranger before him. it also occurred to him at that moment that this man mustn't have been informed of or even know of him in his celebrity status otherwise he certainly wouldn't be offering him money off the bat. That probably explained the modest clothing he was dressed in by the dress and makeup team.

 

“I regret that my offer came out as such, I couldn’t be certain if you were shallow or not without meeting you first, you see? With the plot of the show its somewhat expected if not highly probable, really. But no, this isn’t the entire date at all, not nearly.”

 

“Then where did you get the rest of the money from?” asked Harry, bewildered and somewhat thrown off kilter.

 

All he got in response, however, was _another_ smirk as the stranger held out his arm in an offer and nodded towards a car that had just arrived.

 

_Bloody millionaires._

 

* * *

 

 

The place they had met at was a cafe front; assumedly trying to recreate a real world 'running into a handsome stranger on the street' feel to the show. The illusion was sort of ruined by the fact that said stranger then had a couple hundred thousand dollar date to immediately escort you through.

 

But critiques aside, what he had seen would normally happen in the show (Harry admittedly watched a few seasons in preparation), was that the stranger would whisk them off in a sports car made of gold or private jet made of gold or a chariot  _made of gold_ \- **yes, one guy actually did that**. But instead, this stranger, with Harry on his arm, walked them inside the cafe, asked what Harry wanted off the menu and sat them down at a balcony table on the second floor of the cafe, overlooking the beautiful street. The street was cobbled and cars and bicycles strolled by leisurely, various flowery trees and garden beds were swaying on the sidewalk or between the two roads. It was a peaceful and beautiful scene, set under a blue sky and given movement with a wonderfully gentle breeze.

 

But Harry had to wonder, ' _Why did his partner pick this place?_ '. As lovely and quaint as it is, it was nothing spectacular or mind-blowing. Did this man really not have much more money to spend on the date? Was he budgeting and going to modestly priced venues. If that's the case, he might just be leaving here with a million and a half dollars. He should have felt sympathy for the bloke, but that was also either really unimaginative or simply lazy planning on his part.

 

He looked over to said man, who was just sitting himself down after pushing in Harry's chair for him. Once comfortably seated he looked up at Harry and gave a small smile. 

 

"So, step one of getting to know someone, I would think, would be to know their name. So, my name is Tom, Tom Riddle. You?" he the stranger begins.

 

"Ah, um- my name's Harry, Harry...Potter." Harry returned, hesitating on revealing his last name, just in case it would suddenly put two and two together in 'Tom's' mind.

 

Brushing a hand nervously through his hair, though trying to keep his scar obscured, he looked up through his lashes as the man across from him sheepishly, expecting the usual reaction. On the contrary, however, Tom didn't seem phased in the slightest by this tidbit of information. Spurred on by this reaction, Harry took the next step in advancing their conversation.

 

"I'm from the West Country, over in Godric's Hollow is where I've lived the majority of my life, though I did all of my schoolings abroad in Scotland, not sure if you've heard of the institution, it was-."

 

"-Hogwarts," grinned Tom fondly, another new expression reaching his face, one full of nostalgia and knowing in the eyes, "Yes, I know it quite well, I too did my seven years-worth there."

 

"Oh, that's wonderful, strange I never saw you though...When did you graduate?" inquired Harry, enthused that this random fellow held similarly fond memories of the same halls, surely knowing many boisterous and mischevious tales of his own school years.

 

"I graduated in '93, Headboy of that year, just missed that trainwreck of a Tournament that apparently happened the year after. Apparently, someone died...I was in Albania that year so I did receive much of the news. Were you there for it?"

 

"Ah, that makes sense, I started doing-uh, work...experience that year, so I was a little caught up in balancing that with my studies," In truth he had begun shooting the series that made him famous that year, while still in school, turned out Dumbledore was a huge fan of the books and made some arrangments so it could work. He, of course, would try and postpone Tom recognising him for as long as possible by omitting this fact, "Ah, yeah, that was a terrible year...C-Cedric Diggory was a contestant that was apparently mauled by one of the more insidious creatures allowed to roam the maze they were made to navigate. No exams though, so...that was a bright side?"

 

_OMG, I can't believe I just said that! I just made a joke about the benefits of a fellow student DYING! What is wrong with me? What will Tom think is wrong with me?! He's going to think I'm some kind of psychopath!_

 

Instead, however, his slip up was met with a laugh, "Well, I guess that's one way to think about such an event. Have to find the highlights somehow."

 

"But back to what you were previously talking about before I so rudely interrupted, I, myself, am from Little Hangleton, a village more than town, to be honest, all the way down in East Sussex, at the bottom of the Valley beneath Great Hangleton; the area is a little way South of Surrey. A bit of a close-minded place, hard to get out of- especially when your family owns the place unless you were me of course." 

 

He ended a tad sourly, confusing Harry slightly. He felt there was probably a story here but didn't want to dig into it. As much as it would entertain the viewers watching them through the cameras no doubt hidden about the place, Tom was still a person with boundaries to be respected.

 

"Oh, yes, no wonder we never quite ran into each other," Harry laughed, gradually steering the conversation back to safer waters, "I have some relatives in Surrey actually, horrid people mind you. I met them once and was immediately thrown off their doorstep- didn't even make it past the doorway. I was six, mind you."

 

Harry relayed the tale with a reminiscing smile, despite the content. There was some truth to the fact that some terrible memories became humorous given time and the right company. Company of which he was in and was having a wonderful time in the presence of. All too soon, however, Tom's coffee and Harry's frappe cup were relieved of their load and it was time for them to leave it seemed.

 

From there Tom led Harry around the beautiful village they had found themselves in for this frivolous show. They wandered into many stores, Tom being so outrageously posh as to buy anything Harry stared at for more than seven seconds. All with the flash of a matte black card at the staff, his newly acquired gifts were placed into bags and handed to two very buff- yet undeniably dim lads that had appeared out of nowhere, to carry them. it was quite embarrassing yet alarming at first, him looking back at Tom so very confused and explaining that it was fine and he didn't need to buy it, only to be answered with a smirk like he had received when he asked how he was going to pay for the date. Strangely though, if the item were an isle of clothing of some sort, Tom would often purchase it in some shade of dark green and silver. Strange specification but it was Tom's money he supposed-  _it never even occurred to him that Tom might be like his father in his painfully present **to-this-day** Hogwarts house pride._ Harry eventually got used to the pampering and made sure to skim his eyes over most items and not linger too long.

 

Soon after they had entered just about all the stores catching Harry's interest, Tom led them over to stalls along the boardwalk, over the harbour of the settlement. There they saw street musicians, performers. They also participated in activities of all sorts being hosted, such as weaving, painting, music and so many other lovely things that Harry found so much more wholesome and thoughtful than any amount of roses or trinkets could ever inspire.

 

They stopped to rest on a park bench after much time of traipsing about the town. Tom held his hand the entire time and asked him more about Harry; what he did for work, what he liked to do when he _wasn't_ working, where he liked to eat most, who his friends were and how he came to know them too. By the time the sun was falling behind the ocean and the people had thinned as the cold breeze came in, Harry felt utterly enamoured with the man beside him. So like him, yet so different in how they turned out. Tom shared many opinions and experiences but became an entrepreneur for his family mostly, on the side of being a politician. Every time he found a similarity or difference, it drew him in further, his classic curiosity nudging him to  _riddle_ him out further. But soon this time had to end, a thought that Harry didn't think he would be this despairing to realise at the beginning of the day.

 

 Tom stood, offering his arm again and chaperoned Harry to the street which was now darker and gradually being lit by the yellowed lights of the street posts and the fairy lights strung up in the trees. If you were curious, Tom had relieved Harry of the case and held it in his free hand as they strolled down the street, seemingly without hurry or purpose. 

 

"I'm honestly quite surprised, Tom," Chirped Harry, looking at the stores they passed with casual interest, "Either, you knew you are a great conversationalist or your date so far has been one hell of a fluke."

 

"I would have to disagree with you there, dear Harry. As wonderful my presence is, I believe it is the company that makes the conversation enjoyable in any instance; with anyone else, this date would have been  _insufferable_."

 

"Then why on _Ea_ _rth_  would you plan it this way?" Harry retorted, playfully exasperated at Tom's ego and strange logic.

 

Tom leaned down to whisper into his ear then, eyes finding a hidden camera and sparkling cheekily at it as he spoke tenderly, "I guess I was hoping I'd meet someone like you on my date."

 

Harry tensed in surprise, drew breath, holding it as though it were all of his hopes when he turned his head to look into Tom's now honest, dark eyes.

 

"But," and didn't Harry hate that word as it was breathed against his lips, surely leading to rejection, _surely_ , "The date is not nearly over, so I must insist that all feedback, physical or otherwise, be left until the end of the night."

 

With that, Tom straightened, held Harry's arm, clinging to Tom's own, closer to him, pulling Harry closer by extension, and began walking again with a little more purpose.

 

"You see, my dear, being the ambitious and greedy entrepreneur and politic force that I am, I am not quite satiated with simply a few hours of your company, so I will have to be somewhat selfish and whisk you away for a while longer..." 

 

Looking ahead to where they were walking at that moment, Harry saw what he  _had_ expected in the beginning, more or less. It was gold, it was big, it was undoubtedly, insanely expensive. It was an **_entire_ _cruise_ _ship_** , decked out to be on the international waters for weeks at a time and it was sitting on the harbour of where ever they were, waiting to, as Tom so aptly put it, 'whisk him away for a little while longer'. Despite how prattish the entire sentiment of it was, Harry couldn't find it in him to complain or refuse as he admittedly wasn't satisfied with a few hours alone either.

 

He mused to himself humorously as Tom smugly lead him to all the excessive features of the sea craft. He knew he still needed to tell Tom who he was, it was this right thing to do. he wasn't sure if Tom **already** knew but just didn't care, or hadn't connected the dots yet. But, in any case, he liked how things were now, wasn't keen for any change. He knew it was selfish to lie or omit, but he would allow himself this one indulgence.  _Would basking in the company and gifts of someone so captivating really be so shallow if they did so in the middle of the Atlantic waters? Perhaps the depths were deep enough to compensate for his unabashed greed..._

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE YOU ALL THOUGH!  
> So please let me hear what you think? Any suggestions you make I will include you in the Author notes prior or in this case, I may dedicate it to you if I can't get your chapter out soon enough. 
> 
> As always, love you guys, leave a comment on any thoughts, feedback, suggestions for future fics or fics you want me to continue and I will make a note to do so!


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